Grim Spiders & Bottles of Poison
by PrincessessDontWearCrowns
Summary: Madeline Williams wasn't always invisible, in fact she used to be the hero, despite her brother's constant bolster on how he was the hero. But of course then she died. To let you know, it wasn't much fun dying, in fact it was one of the least fun things she'd done in her previous life - before she was announced as the nation of Canada. Warnings inside the story!
1. Papers Written in Blood

**Chapter 1 - Papers Written in Blood**

**Warnings: Fem!Canada, Mentions of abuse, and a bit AU.**

* * *

Madeline Williams wasn't always invisible, in fact she used to be the hero, despite her brother's constant bolster on how _he_ was the hero. But of course then she died. To let you know, it wasn't much fun dying, in fact it was one of the least fun things she'd done in her previous life - before she was announced as the nation of Canada and placed in the corner, the ignored little girl with the indolent polar bear. Yes, in her previous life she practically had an aura of dysphoria, and she was indeed the hero, only without the flowing cape. To explain her past would be rather difficult, as I am someone who has not experienced these traumatizing events, so instead, I'll let her words describe it.

You see, Madeline Williams was currently looking through old paper - searching for some old stories she'd written, just out of curiosity. Her innocent curiosity turned to macabre hope for the final scattered pieces of her former life - pieces of a story she'd thought had been lost among her journey to become the nation she was today. The notes she now stared at intimidated her to the highest, their words written in crimson, the obvious streaks of blood streaking to the side of the sloppy script. After squinting for quite a while she found herself able to read most of it, so she spoke it aloud in her quiet voice:

"_**We, me and my brother, weren't children we were regrets. We were nothing but Hannah's regrets, drunken rue brought on by a man I prefer to classify as a devil if not the devil. My mother, Hannah, couldn't even look at us, we just made her cry over her ruined life, after all that's why we were apparently born - to ruin people's lives. That's what they told us, all the monsters that hid in our windows, tapping on the frosted glass begging to get in. It hurt to ignore them, because when we refused to open the window the monsters would call us names and tell us just how worthless we were. But, we had bigger problems to deal with then the monsters most likely made up by our little traumatized minds, the spiders. Our father, the devil, would lock us in a room, i'm not even sure what or whom's room it was, and there were spiders everywhere. They crawled all over us and our little five year old selves could do nothing but scream and cry, banging tiny fists against doors only to be corresponded by the deep evil laugh of a drunk man.**_

_**Then there was one night, I believe to be the 21st of February, that we sat in the room of spiders, still crying our worthless little tears when a scream rang through our home. But the scream hardly mattered, someone was always screaming in our house, no it was the sound before the scream. The gunshot. Me and my brother were silenced, and I heard two bodies hitting the floor, but only one gun shot...**_

_**To shorten our tale, our father had finally realized that his dreams were our nightmares, that he was inflicting so much pain to entity his fallen soul. We found out just how far he was willing to go to make these realizations stop when we saw him lying on the ground with a bottle of something - it had a skull on the front. He had killed himself and our mother, god knows why. So now me and my brother are dying, we can't live this forsaken house no matter how much we want to. Our mother, though neglectful and rude, was our mother and leaving her would be stooping to her level. Ignoring her tragic life and death would mean turning into what our family wanted, so instead we sit among dead people awaiting death to steal us as well. Goodbye.**_

_**Written by Madeline Williams, an eight year old girl with a torn apart life, hanging by the very thread of existence."**_

The precise detail and surprising amount of pure hatred coming from an eight year old staggered and even slightly skittish. Folding the crippled paper carefully, the blonde haired Canadian stuffed the note in her pocket - she planned to pertain Alfred into the letter, perhaps with the nervous knot in her stomach that _somehow _this letter survived through her last life time and her current one. Brushing away tears gently, Madeline left her home in a hurry to get to her brothers home, leaving her polar bear asking is signature question: "Who?"

And, to be honest, Maddie wasn't sure how to answer that question anymore.


	2. Frantic Heroes and Bad Habits

**Chapter 2 - Frantic Heroes and Bad Habits**

* * *

Alfred Jones was currently banging his head against a wall repeatedly, begging for his phone to quit is bothersome ringing. Even the self-proclaimed hero couldn't stand noises on early Saturday morning - so early that the sky was still painted in stars. For some reason his sleep-drunken mind could hardly comprehend simply turning his phone on vibrate, so instead he just held pillows to his ears as he let a muffled groan escape his lips. Finally, overcome by childish curiosity, he released his grip on the pillow he was holding around his face and rubbed his head before grabbing his phone. Of course, it would be his sister. Alfred's glare lessened a bit, but not by much. Even if it was his sister that still didn't give her a free pass for bombarding him in noise at like 3 a.m.

He allowed his eyes to adjust to the screen before reading the stream of texts she had sent to him, they actually all said the same thing:

"_I found it! I found the proof."_

Now for any other individual reading those disorienting messages, they would have probably asked for details on perhaps, _what proof? _But, for Alfred, this was enough to make his heart start running a marathon, he dropped his phone back onto his bedside table before fainting, his arms falling limply to his side. If Maddie had been around, she would have most likely muttered 'drama queen' before throwing gelid water upon the poor nation. But, of course, Madeline Williams was trudging through American forests, muttering some colorful french curse words under her breath.

**_- TIME SKIP -_**

When Madeline was truly lost in thought, which she most certainly was right now, she always got lost. Call it her little idiosyncrasy if you must, but for her it was just a way of life - and a pretty darn sucky one too. She silently cursed herself for allowing herself to swim among her imagination, dreaming of possible outcomes to her current situation. She did that all to often, and it was one of her several bad habits.

"Maybe it's better that people ignore me..." Maddie whispered, her voice muffled by wind flowing freely at her face, "I'm just a walking bad habit." She grudgingly accepted the fact that she'd screwed up, and she turned, attempting to go a bit more toward her brothers home when she ran straight into the one she was looking for.

"MADDIE WHERE IS IT? WHERE'S THE PROOF?" Alfred grabbed his sisters shoulders, leaning down slightly to better see her.

"R-right h-here..." Madeline fidgeted, pulling her pale hand from her pocket and revealing the scarlet stained paper.

Alfred snatched it from her hand, unfolding it recklessly and reading it for what seemed like hours to the terrified Canadian across from him. Then he spoke, his voice slow with a slight tremble entraced in them:

"We have to show the other nations."


	3. 8 Legged Trauma

**Chapter 3 -**

* * *

"WHAT!?" Madeline cried, her hands turning into fists as she began to form a defensive pose. "WE CANNOT SHOW THE OTHER NATIONS THIS, ARE YOU CRAZY?" Alfred blinked slightly, fear gushing through him. Anything that got his little sister to yell was probably going to be destroyed in the next couple of seconds.

"There's a meeting tomorrow, I'm reading this-" Alfred held up the paper to signify to it's existence, "Whether you want me to or not." He scowled, pretending to ignore the fright he truly felt of his sister. His sister didn't buy it.

"...Fine...but only if...you don't tell them I wrote it..." Madeline looked hurt almost, but she truly realized for a moment there that their past lives needed to be shared with the other nations - it could possibly help with a mystery hiding beneath them all. What if the other nations had past lives as well, it was imperative, it truly was. But, the writing was so hateful and possibly frightening - and Madeline did not want the other nations to finally see her and to be scared of her. She didn't want their first impression of the often invisible girl to be that morbid paper.

Alfred looked irked, and he truly was, even though the paper was...dark and twisted...and possibly scarily accurate, it was beautiful in it's own way. Okay, that sounded weird, he knew that when he thought it, but he found his sister's writings all different - in a good way. He shook his head.

"I'm not reading it unless I say your name." He felt a tug in his stomach, knowing full well that for anyone else he would never act like this. Alfred was thought of as a hero who was blinded by his self-absorbed nature, but he wasn't like that with his sister, he was possibly one of the best brothers ever to Madeline - if only the other nations could see how he could be generous.

Madeline lost her breath for a moment before shaking her head slowly.

"I can't let people think of me as that morbid."

"They see you. They see you all the time - it's just that you don't seem to mind being ignored that they ignore you. This will help, I promise!" Alfred smiled at his sister.

Maddie felt conflicted, she wouldn't trust anyone normally, with her very set trust issues, but her brother had always been there. He never ignored her - and if he did it wouldn't be for long. Taking in a deep breath she nodded. Words failed her.

- **time skip of le awesomeness **-

Madeline leaned forward in her chair, refusing to feel comfort when nervousness overcame her. She felt as if she was going to throw up even though she had nothing to throw up, she refused to eat that morning in fear she would vomit. She knew it probably didn't help but her nervousness made her mind think estranged thoughts. She shook profoundly, but no one seemed to wonder why.

Except for everybody.

Just as Alfred had said, everyone saw her - a pretty blonde haired girl with a maple leaf clip in her hair. They overlooked her often because she didn't speak much, but they all truly cared for her. In a time of tough warfare she remained seemingly gentle and kind to everyone, even when she was obviously pained. Her current state - which was extremely pale and looking rather sick, worried them.

"Mon petite? Is something...bothering you?" France turned his question toward his 'mon petite'.

Madeline looked surprised to see all eyes in the room turned to her, before she shook her head quickly, biting her lip white.

Then Alfred screamed.

Everyone immediately turned to him, to find the blonde haired American passed out, in front of him there was a spider.

Madeline cringed, tears choking her eyes. She knew the 8 legged pests would be unavoidable but she hadn't seen one in maybe a year or two - and she almost thought she'd gotten over that trauma. She closed her eyes for a moment and was shocked by vivid flashbacks burning into her as she gasped sharply:

**_"W-why" a blonde haired girl beat onto a door, her knuckles crimson with blood that spurted from opened scars. A little blonde haired boy cowered behind her, crying into his sister's back. Only a drunken laugh was heard from the other side of the door. The girl looked behind her at all the spiders, they covered the place, crawling up the children's legs up their arms. The children screamed once more and were met with the same laugh. On the other side there was a man covered in blood standing over a woman, who know laid pooled in her own blood. The man pulled out another bottle, but this time it was not one of beer - it was one with a skull imprinted on it, poison. He drank it, leaving his children to die in a room full of the spiders - spiders with poison that could easily bite and seen venom up two 6 year old veins. _**

Madeline opened her eyes again to find tears streaming down her face, her heart thumping in her chest. She felt her eyes shake and dilate, squinting at the floor where the spider had been (for someone had disposed of it.)

"Extreme fear of spiders?" Gilbert, aka Prussia, asked.

"It's a long story involving a past life and extreme traumas." Madeline explained, wiping tears from her eyes.

"What?" Arthur, aka England, asked frantically, obviously interested.

Madeline felt conflicted again, but for only a moment. She leaned down beside her brother, whom was still out cold, and took the paper from his jacket. Staring at it for a moment before holding it up in one hand, the Canadian whispered "This paper has the information on my past life. It is rather disturbing though - so I might not want to read it..."

"READ IT!" England was desperate to know what had made his two colonies so terrified of spiders, and a bit concerned on the 'past life' business.

Taking a deep inhale of breath, Madeline began:

"_**We, me and my brother, weren't children we were regrets. We were nothing but Hannah's regrets, drunken rue brought on by a man I prefer to classify as a devil if not the devil. My mother, Hannah, couldn't even look at us, we just made her cry over her ruined life, after all that's why we were apparently born - to ruin people's lives. That's what they told us, all the monsters that hid in our windows, tapping on the frosted glass begging to get in. It hurt to ignore them, because when we refused to open the window the monsters would call us names and tell us just how worthless we were. But, we had bigger problems to deal with then the monsters most likely made up by our little traumatized minds, the spiders. Our father, the devil, would lock us in a room, i'm not even sure what or whom's room it was, and there were spiders everywhere. They crawled all over us and our little five year old selves could do nothing but scream and cry, banging tiny fists against doors only to be corresponded by the deep evil laugh of a drunk man.**_

_**Then there was one night, I believe to be the 21st of February, that we sat in the room of spiders, still crying our worthless little tears when a scream rang through our home. But the scream hardly mattered, someone was always screaming in our house, no it was the sound before the scream. The gunshot. Me and my brother were silenced, and I heard two bodies hitting the floor, but only one gun shot...**_

_**To shorten our tale, our father had finally realized that his dreams were our nightmares, that he was inflicting so much pain to entity his fallen soul. We found out just how far he was willing to go to make these realizations stop when we saw him lying on the ground with a bottle of something - it had a skull on the front. He had killed himself and our mother, god knows why. So now me and my brother are dying, we can't live this forsaken house no matter how much we want to. Our mother, though neglectful and rude, was our mother and leaving her would be stooping to her level. Ignoring her tragic life and death would mean turning into what our family wanted, so instead we sit among dead people awaiting death to steal us as well. Goodbye.**_

_**Written by Madeline Williams, an eight year old girl with a torn apart life, hanging by the very thread of existence."**_

For a moment the room was silent.

Then the yelling started.


End file.
